Askin' For It
by Ieyre
Summary: The age-old question GWTW fans have been asking for generations...what if Scarlett had just kicked Rhett in the groin? Yeah, I went there. Chapter 2 up--this time, it's Ashley's turn.
1. Chapter 1

**I dedicate this to the good girls over on **_**O Fiddle Dee Dee**_**, who posed the question: how would GWTW have been different if Scarlett had kicked Rhett where the sun don't shine instead of lunging at him when he came home from London. No, this is not a particularly serious story. Yes, it was fun to write.**

"Cheer up—maybe you'll have a miscarriage."

Rage the likes of which she had never experienced before coursed through her veins. How could he doubt his child? As if Ashley would have done the things to her that Rhett had the night of that party—the very idea was absurd.

Why the hell had she missed him? He was a callous bastard who had stolen one of her children like a thief in the night and had the audacity to deny the legitimacy of the other one! The red-hot desire to cause him pain—as much pain as he'd caused her, for he _had_ hurt her badly—filled her to the brim.

Inexplicably, a faint childhood recollection came to her. When she was about nine years old, her father had gone away on a business trip. When he finally did return, she'd been so eager to see him that she had jumped onto his lap rather exuberantly, slamming her knobby knees in his lap. His face had contorted in more pain than she'd ever seen in her life—Gerald had been so surprised that he had stood up and hobbled out of the room, bowled over. Her mother had hurriedly explained to her that she must be very careful about 'that place' on her father from now on. She wasn't reprimanded for her actions, but had overheard some of the house slaves discussing Mr. O'Hara's inability to get on a horse for the next several days.

Suddenly, she knew what she wanted to do to Rhett.

She ran up the stairs, swiftly, cutting him off from finishing the ascent. Scarlett wanted to attack him—and in a way that even the great Rhett Butler would not be able to laugh off.

With as much strength as she could muster in her small body, she raised her knee and through her skirts, kicked him in his well-tailored groin.

Rhett buckled over in pain. He had always known his wife to hit below the belt, but never had she done it so…literally. He fell to his knees, sliding halfway down a stair in shock more than anything else. Above him, his wife's eyes blazed with both angry triumph and barely-concealed tears.

"I imagine that's about the closest you'll ever come to feeling what it's like to give birth to a baby." She spun on her heel, calling over her shoulder, "I hope you remember that while I'm giving birth to _your _child."

Rhett heard the door to her bedroom slam.

_What a welcome home._

He knew he deserved it. As soon as the words had left his mouth, as soon as he'd seen the expression on her face, he had known that he would regret saying them. Being kicked _there_, of all places, was an appropriate punishment, since it was _that_ general location that had gotten them both into this mess in the first place.

This was the last thing Rhett had been expecting their reunion to be, Rhett thought, as he gingerly stood up. Her face—_Christ, _what a kick—her face when Bonnie and he walked through the door had been, if he was not mistaken, one of pleasure. She hugged Bonnie tightly when her daughter waddled up the stairs to her—the joy at seeing Bonnie had not been counterfeit. And then, of course, he had callously greeted her and goaded her into a fight. Were her words about not wanting him to be the father the truth, or was it simply the Scarlett O'Hara bravado he'd seen so many times before—his wife childishly lashing out with words of extreme hatred because she knew no other way to react?

The more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed. It was as if she had kicked him in the head and not in his still tender nether region.

In a burst of clarity, he saw what he had to do—apologize to her. She was not the mothering type, but he would make this pregnancy up to her—spoil her and pamper her, as he had done on their honeymoon. He would be attentive and kind, for even if she did not love him, she was carrying his child and would be giving him another precious gift—like Bonnie. Another child would make up for all the nights he had ached to have her in his bed these last few years.

A few hours passed, with no sign of Scarlett. She refused to come out of her room for dinner, and so Rhett and Bonnie spent their first dinner back with only Ella and Wade. Rhett was pleased to see his stepchildren, and entertained them with stories of his and Bonnie's travels. The stories were amusing enough that they even distracted his children from asking why he was walking so strangely, which was one story he had no real desire to tell them.

After dinner, he went into the kitchen to see about getting some food for his angry, pregnant wife. The knowledge that she was in her condition had softened the resentment and jealousy he had been feeling towards her—coupled with months away from her, of course. He'd missed being close to her, and now he wanted to make sure she got something to eat.

Mammy, being Mammy, had kept a plate of food warmed up for Scarlett, and Rhett insisted on taking it up to her. With some trepidation, he knocked on the door of the 'inner sanctuary'.

"Scarlett? I brought you something to eat."

"Go away. I don't want it," was the muffled response.

He could practically hear her stomach growl through the door.

"Come on, Scarlett—you need to eat. Starving won't do you or anyone else any good."

"If it makes you sorry for the abominable way you've treated me, it will!"

Another hit below the belt—it stung. He set down the tray of food, afraid he might end up throwing it in frustration before this conversation was through.

"Scarlett, you are pregnant—you need to eat. Be reasonable. I have dinner here, I'm sure you're hungry—unlock the door and I'm sure you'll feel much better."

"I'm not going to open the door and I'm not going to eat and you won't make me do either!" was the petulant response he got.

At that, Rhett lost his patience with her.

"You will eat if I have to force-feed you every bite, and as for this door— "

He violently yanked on the handle, intending to break it and force his way into the room. To his great surprise, the door flew open with his minimal first effort. The doorknob remained attached to the door, and he stood stupidly in the entrance to the ornate bedroom, wind completely taken from his sails. Scarlett lay on the richly upholstered bed, face pale and eyes clearly red from crying. She stared up at him. He stared back.

"The door was unlocked," he said, stupidly, all anger forgotten.

"It hasn't been locked in months."

He leaned over the pick up the silver tray of food, wincing at the pain from her earlier attack on him. He walked over to her slowly, and she felt simultaneously glad and guilty that she had caused him to lose his usually confident stride. Sitting down next to her on the bed, he softly placed the tray on her lap with more gentleness than he'd shown her in a very long time.

"Did you stop locking the door because you hoped I would be tempted to break our agreement of separate bedrooms, Mrs. Butler?" he asked, teasingly. Scarlett didn't answer directly, her mouth full. She had immediately started digging into the elaborate steak dinner that was prepared for his return, and the voracity of her hunger was heartening.

"A better way of getting you to break it would have been to get you really drunk, wouldn't it?" she asked, swallowing a huge bite of potatoes. "Of course, I might not see you again for several months if I try _that_. Next time, could you please send a notification of where you are in case I need some extra money to provide for any children you might leave me with?"

"If I'd known you were pregnant, Scarlett, I would have come home sooner," he said, seriously.

"What for? You don't even think it's yours." She threw the fork down on the tray with a loud _clang_. "You probably wish that I had fallen down the stairs with the baby and we'd both died—then no one in Atlanta who's been talking about me all these months would be able to doubt that you're the father of my child!"

"For God's sake, Scarlett, I didn't mean what I said!" He knocked her tray out of her lap and onto the floor and gripped her shoulders, staring wildly into her tear-stained eyes. "I would never wish such a thing on you—Jesus Christ, just the thought of that happening to you kills me."

The image of her falling down that long staircase was vividly etched in his mind—it was the most terrifying thought he'd ever had.

Scarlett burst into tears and flung herself into the arms that held her shoulders. Rhett rubbed her back as she cried, the same childish sobbing of the night Atlanta fell. Even though he had caused her tears, he was her only anchor on reality and the only person left in her life who could truly comfort her.

"It's alright, Scarlett…darling, just cry. I'm sorry I said that, baby, truly. I don't want that to happen to you—I never want that to happen to you. I'm going to keep you and the baby safe, I promise. I won't leave again…"

At those words, Scarlett's feelings tumbled out of her mouth and into his chest, muffled by his starched shirt. They were a nearly incoherent mess of deep-seated fears, insecurities and hormones.

"After that night, I thought you cared for me, but then you left and took Bonnie away…and…I thought you only saw me as just some body you'd bought—and then I found out about the baby—"

He gripped her tighter and smoothed down the frenzied mess of ebony hair with his hand, gently. Her hair felt as fine as Bonnie's did.

"I know you don't want it, but I'm going to make things as easy as possible for you, Scarlett. I'm sorry that—"

She untangled herself from his arms.

"Oh, Rhett, I _do_ want it!" She turned away from him and crawled to the other side of the bed. "I have since Dr. Meade told me…I thought it would help clear the air between us, and make things alright again…but you won't even claim this baby."

"Scarlett…look at me." Reluctantly, she turned her head to meet his eyes. "Scarlett, I know that I am the father of your child. I said that because—I thought you didn't want it. You told me that you wished anyone was the father but me, Scarlett—was that a lie?" He dared himself to hope.

"Yes, Rhett," she answered, "I only said that…I don't know why I did. You're the most baby-crazy man in Atlanta, of course I want you to be this child's father." She laid her palms on her barely-showing stomach. "If only you wanted this child as much as I do—"

He crossed the bed and cut her off with a more passionate kiss than he'd ever given her. There was no aggression in his touch, only tenderness—Scarlett wrapped her arms around his neck instinctually. His hand trailed from her neck down to her abdomen, and he gently caressed her stomach. He pulled away only reluctantly.

"Oh, God—I want it. Knowing that you want it, too makes me the happiest man on earth, Scarlett."

He cradled her softly in his arms and she felt safer than she had in years—Rhett's gentleness was so different from the raw aggression that had fueled the conception of the child—the conception she still blushed to remember but could recall in exquisite detail.

"You want our baby?"

"Of course I do, Scarlett. I love Wade, and Ella, and you know how much I love our Bonnie—your children are a part of you, and they are magnificent."

It was the most honest thing she had ever heard him say. For the first time since she had met him, she felt absolutely certain he meant what he said—there was not the slightest trace of insincerity in his eyes or tone. She shifted a little in his embrace and felt his muscles tighten in pain—then she remembered the way their last conversation had ended.

"Oh, Rhett, your…" Her eyes wandered down to the unmentioned area.

"There are several euphemisms for the area, my dear, but I think a full list would cause a woman in your delicate condition to faint." He said, dryly. He was too happy to care what she'd done—the fact that she wanted his child gave him profound hope. Perhaps she wanted him, too.

"I'm sorry I did that." As she remembered what he had said to provoke the attack, her sheepish look turned hard. "Actually, come to think of it, I'm not sure I am sorry."

"I deserved it." He agreed, "I was surprised that you knew what a devastating blow to a man that could be. Wherever did you pick that one up?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I accidentally did it to Pa when I was a girl." She blushed at the roaring laugh that followed her pronouncement.

"Only _you_ could do that to a man by accident!"

"It was an accident, Rhett, honestly!" was her defensive rebuttal. It was as if years of resentment had fallen away—at least for this brief moment of relative harmony between them.

"I'm sure."

She could see he was smiling, and the feeling of contentment at his return she'd expected to feel filled her up inside. Instead of a stinging retort, she slapped his arm, lightly.

"Are you really glad about me having this child, Rhett?" she asked, looking for confirmation that he cared. Perhaps the love he had professed that night were not only alcohol talking…if she could sort out what he felt, perhaps she could sort out her own confusing feelings.

"I'm very happy about it. I look forward to telling everyone, especially Bonnie, that she will have a new baby brother or sister."

"I think it'll be a boy," she blurted out. "At least…I hope so."

His dark eyes alighted with pleasure at the admission.

"Do you know, you've made this child even more special to me today, Scarlett?"

"How's that, Rhett?"

"Thanks to your little attack on the…source of my masculine power," she turned red again, "You've put serious doubt in my mind that I'll ever be able to have any more children."

The expression on her face was worth his brief poor taste in humor. He seriously considered extending the lie far enough to get back in her bed, but the fact that he could hardly get her pregnant again was a worthy enough excuse for the time being. By the time the baby was born, he had high hopes that they would both be ready to admit to deeper feelings, and no separate rooms would be necessary.

**And then all their problems were magically solved and they had hella babies. **


	2. The Revenge of the Scarlett

**Guess what, everyone? It's Ashley's turn!**

Ever since he had found out that Scarlett was expecting their second child, Rhett acted differently around her. Gone was the inattentiveness that had marked a great deal of their marriage since Bonnie's birth—the moment Scarlett admitted to him that she wanted the child and he had tenderly kissed her, a shift in their world had begun. He told her, very seriously, that he had no intention of leaving Atlanta again while she was pregnant. If the experience of their first child was any indication, Scarlett would not be without her husband's presence for a very long time. The memory of how protective he'd been of Bonnie when she was a baby was funny now—she did not understand why his affection for their child had been so annoying to her at the time. Perhaps it was because he'd admitted that he cared for her children because they were _hers_ that made his cooing less burdensome_._ The caring he'd shown her, the fact that he had begun to choose talking to her over spending time in the nursery, playing with Bonnie, was heartening.

Less heartening was Rhett's insistence she give up the mills and the store.

Before it was the largest object to the things she wanted, Rhett's iron will had been something to marvel at. No amount of eye fluttering and coy glances had ever been able to change his mind—her husband had said, quite flatly, that she would not work while she was pregnant. He'd even had the gall to say that she should count her lucky stars that he allowed her to work at all.

To this, his wife had almost asked if it was concern for the child or for her virtue that he insist she be kept away from the mills. The only thing after hisremark that had made her hold her tongue was a small amount of lingering guilt after the way she'd reacted when she'd been angry with him the last time. Rhett's walk was normal again, finally, and the peace between them was too nice to be broken just right now. She thought about telling him that she hadn't visited or cared about the mills and store for the last three months, because she'd missed him so much—but she did not want to appear weak to him, and admitting that would be a sign of weakness.

Besides, what Rhett didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Like, for example, her going to the mill today while Rhett was out taking Bonnie to the Picards' son's birthday party. She'd go quickly, make sure the work on the latest housing project was going smoothly, look over the books—and talk to Ashley. She'd be back before Rhett knew anything about it.

For the first time since she was fourteen, Scarlett was anticipating a conversation with Ashley not with elation, but with dread. The months since his birthday had not contained a single meaningful conversation between them. In the long time that Rhett had been gone, feelings of resentment and anger about that day's events had built up, not only towards her wayward spouse, but towards her 'Golden Knight', Ashley Wilkes, as well. The stupid, guilty look on his face when he'd seen her at the party came to mind—he hadn't done a thing to convince anyone that there was nothing between them. While everyone at the party stood around, talking about Scarlett, all Ashley had done was look the part of a straying husband. His inability to own up to the innocence of the moment between them made Scarlett's blood boil. It was true that the primary object of her ire for her entire adult life had been Rhett, but his on-the-whole good behavior since returning with Bonnie had transferred some of her feelings of betrayal to the other man who'd been responsible for her ostracism in Atlanta—Ashley.

Her baby was just starting to show, and she needed to talk to him before her condition was too obvious.

Scarlett drove herself in her carriage, like she had when she was married to Frank. She knew her clever husband would not be remiss in inquiring about her whereabouts, and the risk that a coachman would spill the beans was not one she was willing to take. She was afraid to tell Rhett that she wanted to talk to Ashley, not only because of the way he might react, but because her feelings for the Rhett and Ashley were becoming increasingly blurred. Everything she had always known about the two men at the center of her world had irrevocably changed that night.

The lack of feeling in Ashley's arms…the way Rhett had made her feel…that night. It was almost as if—as if…

She had to talk to Ashley. Then she'd know, one way or another. She would talk to him about this—she would not let him hold her at arms length and run away from the conversation that they needed to have. Rhett had always said he admired her forthrightness—Ashley would get a taste of it, today.

She was not impressed with the state of the mills. The books were in order, true, but Ashley had not invested well these last few months—particularly when it came to the actual selling of the lumber. From what she could tell, her business partner had stopped making large sales of wood to anyone but ex-Confederates—the fool! He must've realized that selling to Yankees was where the real money was!

But no, as usual, his 'honor' had gotten in the way of better sense. Three months ago, Scarlett might have made allowances for his bad business sense—but now it was as though a glaring light was being held over him, revealing all his deficiencies. His honor had prevented him from leaving Tara and taking her with him—even though he'd claimed to love her that day. Inexplicably she thought of Rhett, in the same situation—hadn't he offered to take her away, once? To take her away from everything?

If Rhett had been there with them, she would not have wanted to leave so badly. Rhett would have been able to shoulder the burden of running the farm—he always knew what to do.

She was brought out of her memories by the soft voice and gentle face of the man who for many years had been first in her heart. Ashley stood gravely in front of her office at the lumber mills—the office that she had been vacant from for some time.

"I heard you had come to inspect the mills, Scarlett," he said, seriously, "I wondered what you thought of them, since you took a break from working the last few months. Melanie has been concerned about you—"

"I'm glad you're here, Ashley. I want to talk to you—would you come in here, please?" she interrupted, rather flatly. He did not acknowledge the cool reception Scarlett gave him, instead following her into the office.

"Leave the door open, Ashley, would you?"

The significance of the request did not escape his notice, either. Back straight, head held high, she sat down at her chair behind her rather imposing desk. He abandoned the door and shrunk into a seat across from her.

"What exactly was it you wished to ask me?"

"Did you say anything at all to Melanie about the day of your birthday party, Ashley?"

She had meant to start the conversation with some questions about the business, the weather, anything—but sitting here at the mill reminded her of the real reason she had come out here today.

"Scarlett, I…" was his weak response.

"Did you tell her anything at all?" The fire in her, the fire within her he had professed to admire deeply was burning with cold fury at this moment. "Has Melly been hearing about the two of us from India only, or did you even try to tell her the truth?"

"Scarlett, I don't think we should talk about this—"

"There was nothing wrong with what we were doing, Ashley! It was an innocent gesture between friends. We've known each other for years, since we were both children—Melly understands that."

"She doesn't understand it, Scarlett," he said, his blue eyes fraught with sadness. "If I had told her that it was the embrace of a friend, she wouldn't understand what I meant. It's better that she doesn't know anything."

She stood up from her chair, seething. There was no point in pretending to be demure and deferring to himon the point—he was one of two men in the world who'd see her true, enraged self.

"It's better that she thinks your shrew of a sister is simply making things up? It's better that everyone in Atlanta hates me because you won't admit we've done anything?" She balled her fists in anger.

"Scarlett—I only thought it would upset you if I said anything—"

"Why?" she snorted, disdainfully, "Is it because you think Rhett left with Bonnie the day after the party for the same reason everyone else does?"

He said nothing, his face was guarded—she knew that he, like everyone in Atlanta, believed that Rhett Butler had left his wife for such a long time because she was unfaithful to him.

"I know what they're saying, Ashley. They all think we've had an affair, and I expect when I start to show they'll all think that this baby I'm carrying is yours."

His eyes widened in shock.

"A baby, my dear? Should you be here, in your condition?" he deflected.

"If the _father_ of my child knew, my husband, I'd expect he would be upset. Not that anyone in the city will think that he is the father, considering that our bedroom situation seems to be the favorite topic of gossip in Atlanta's parlors."

The words were coming out—Scarlett herself didn't know where she had gotten the nerve to say half of what she was saying. It just came over her, suddenly, that she should lay it all out on the line—for years he had left her wondering about their every encounter, his every glance, what they all meant. Why couldn't they talk about it? Why shouldn't she say all these things to him—she could say as much to Rhett, and he wouldn't shrink in his seat like Ashley at this very moment was.

"Please, Scarlett, don't speak of such things as idle gossip—it's beneath you."

The sheer hypocrisy of the statement hit her like a freight train.

"You made me do it, you know."

Why not? Rhett had always said that Ashley had only ever valued her as a body, as a woman—why not test the theory?

"What do you mean?"

"That day—that day you told me that Rhett made me coarse—that he cheapened me. That you couldn't bare the thought of him touching me. That was the day I…"

Her actions the day she had told Rhett she did not want anymore children were so monumentally stupid—she had regretted it so much, it had nearly torn her marriage apart. Here, in front of her, sat the very man who had planted the idea in her head. However indirectly he had done it, Ashley had not wanted Rhett to have a single part of her—he had encouraged her to turn out her own husband from his most sacred marital right.

"I thought I was being faithful to you, Ashley. Do you know that? Rhett knew that you were the reason. I think that's why he was so angry that night, after the party…" She stopped, hastily. Scarlett realized that there was something special about that night, something she did not want Ashley to intrude on.

"Are you satisfied with the state the mills are in?"

The question brought her out of her reverie, but it was not what she wanted to hear from him. She was tired of the men in her life never telling her what they meant, what they thought. People were not her area of expertise—from the day at the barbeque when he'd rejected her, Scarlett was fairly certain she had been misreading him every step of the way.

"Why do you refuse to acknowledge the things that have happened between us?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She walked over to the door and shut it, then turned, glaring, to face him.

"Every time something's happened between us, every time I've told you 'I love you' or we've kissed, you've tried to avoid me and asked me never to talk about it again. Well, I want to talk about it, by God, and we are going to."

Ashley rose from his chair and turned to faith her. The look on her face, now, her flushed cheeks, her flashing eyes—this was the reason he should have taken his wife and son and left Atlanta forever. He was drawn in by the outer shell but strangely terrified by what she was going to say and ask—by her strength and power that he so blatantly lacked.

"I told you to forget it because I knew it would spare us both a great deal of grief," he said, somewhat aloofly, "And because I knew it was wrong."

"'Spare us a great deal of grief'?" she parroted, "For years I've thought that day at the orchard meant you loved me—and this whole time you thought it was wrong, didn't you? That it was sinful and bad and—and—_beneath _you, to feel that way about me."

"I should never have let us stay at Tara as long as we did, feeding off your hospitality—and I knew," he said, shamefully, "I knew that you being there was a temptation for me."

"If you'd simply loved me for my mind, I wouldn't have been such a temptation for you, would I, Ashley?" The words came from a deep-seated memory of hers.

His silence said more than finely spun words ever could.

With an immense rush of clarity, Scarlett saw in her mind's eye the truth—the truth she'd denied for years. The truth that Rhett had tried to make her see the day he'd visited her after she married Frank—_that_ was where the question had come from—that Ashley saw her as a woman and lusted after her and _wanted _her.

But he did not love her. In fact, he was ashamed of feeling anything for her—self-disgust was written all over his face, and self-pity, and shame. Weak emotions, the sort she'd always loathed—the extreme emotions she always felt when pregnant were intensified by this fresh insight. She stalked towards him, slowly, purposefully, and stared up into his drowsy eyes.

"I can see, now, Ashley—you don't feel any differently for me than Rhett feels for Belle Watling, do you?" he visibly flinched at the comparison, "No, excuse me—Rhett actually respects that trashy thing, there's the difference."

"Don't compare me to him, Scarlett." There was something close to anger in his voice, "Don't. I would never willfully hurt or disrespect you the way he has."

"What do you call all these years of not telling me the truth? Of making me believe you love me?" she shrieked, hysterically. "What about when I left for Atlanta to get the tax money on Tara—didn't you know what I was going to do? You're no fool, Ashley, you must've known."

"I-I suspected what you might do—"

"And you did nothing to stop me—_nothing._ You let me go to see Rhett, knowing that I would stop at nothing to get the tax money from him, with marriage or without. Forget love, you didn't even care enough about my self-respect to stop me."

Each truth she uttered was like a cannonball to the gut.

"The night of the party, all the people there could see guilt written all over your face—if I'm going to have to pay for a crime, I want it to be one I'm guilty of. Maybe you thought what happened that day was because I loved you but it's not—because I felt nothing, Ashley Wilkes, you coward, do you hear me? _Nothing at all!"_

It was a good thing she had had the foresight to close the door to the office, the scream she let loose was so powerful. The words, she faintly understood, were the truth. She did not love him. She had felt nothing in his arms but nostalgia and friendship—the love and passion he'd once lit in her by his mere presence had faded into nothing. This anger was the most emotion he had elicited from her in years.

"All this time I've been pining after you has been a waste," she voiced aloud, "I've been…I've been crying for the _God-damned moon!_"

She didn't know what made her do it. Perhaps it was the certainty that he would never tell anyone about anything that transpired between them. Perhaps it was the no-so-distant memory of how effective it had been the last time she'd deployed this particular weapon. The memory of Rhett, the strongest man she'd ever known, doubled over in pain might have egged her on. Or it might have been the sudden realization of what a rotten friend she'd been to Melanie, how resentful she'd been, all because of this man.

Whatever the cause, for the second time in less than a month, the pregnant Scarlett O'Hara Butler delivered a devastating blow to the only thing left of the Wilkes' family estate.

Ashley at least had a chair to fall onto, but Scarlett did not feel the savage triumph that delivering the blow to Rhett had given her. Ashley was not as satisfying an opponent, by far—and while she knew she would forgive him, one day, the former Clayton County belle was as resentful of him for shattering her image of what a man should be as she was angry as herself for wasting so much time fawning over him.

"I will come by the house soon, to call on you, Beau and Melanie—and give you some instructions on the running of this mill. If you'll excuse me, I should be going home—see yourself out, Ashley."

With that, she opened the door to the office and left him inside, not giving his face another glance.

It was now four o'clock in the afternoon—the party was meant to go on till five, which gave her plenty of time to return to the house on Peachtree street before Bonnie and Rhett returned. Still, Scarlett urged the horse on, focusing on getting back home as quickly and discreetly as possible—anything to avoid thinking about what the colorful episode that had taken place in her office meant. She afraid of examining too deeply what this sudden realization meant—in particular what it meant in regards to her complicated relationship with her husband.

She walked up the massive doors of her house as quickly as she could in her pregnant state, and opened the door to a childishly familiar cry of joy.

"Mother—Mother, there you are! Daddy was so worried!"

Bonnie, her beloved youngest daughter, came bounding out of the dining room as soon as she heard the door open. _Oh, God, that means-_Immediately behind her was Rhett, his eyes shining with a strange mixture of relief, suspicion and anger.

Bonnie boldly ran over to her mother, who knelt down to hug the child with as much affection as she could give. Around her mouth was a distinct smear of chocolate, which her daughter tried in vain to rub off her face in order to impress her mother.

"I want to hear all about the party, Bonnie—did you have a good time, baby?"

"It was real fun, Mother—Daddy and I brought the best present, didn't we?" she entreated her beloved father.

"We sure did, sweetheart," he said guilelessly, "But wouldn't you like to hear about where your _mother_ has been while we've been at the birthday party?"

Scarlett looked up from Bonnie and into Rhett's eyes. She could guess what he was thinking—she needed time to sort out her own feelings, but he wasn't going to give her any. He was upset that she had been out at all, but the fact that she'd come back while they were supposed to be at the party was as much circumstantial proof of her guilt as he needed.

"But I wanted to hear from Bonnie why the party ended so soon." She let the child go, reluctantly. "I thought you were supposed to be there for another half-hour, at least."

"The party wasn't over, Mother—Daddy was worried you was lonely, so we came back to play with you."

Somehow, Scarlett suspected that 'Daddy' had been suspicious she might try to pull a stunt like she had today, and so he had come home early to head her off—which he'd done, quite spectacularly. Rhett outmaneuvering her, once again. Of course.

"Well, is that so? How thoughtful of him." She smiled at her husband, who raised his eyebrows in return.

"Bonnie, why don't you go up to the nursery and give Wade and Ella the party favors we got for them?"

With an uncharacteristic surge of obedience, the miniature Scarlett dutifully ran up the stairs to see her older siblings, leaving her parents standing quite alone in the front parlor of the house.

"Where have you been, Scarlett?" he asked, bluntly.

"The mill," she answered, quickly. If she lied he would think there was something to hide, "I haven't been in months, Rhett, not since…" She turned red, aware that the last time she had been to the mills was the day before he left. "I needed to check on things."

"Did I not tell you that you were not to go to the mill while you are carrying my child?"

"Yes, you did—"

"Did you think I said that lightly, Scarlett? Do you realize how absolutely serious I was?" His entire expression was very dark and moody—he stepped towards her, and Scarlett stood her ground. She would tell him the truth—or as much of it as she had to.

"I know you think I'm made of glass, Rhett, but I was fine. It was just for a short while, just to check on things. Soon I'll be showing, and I needed to make a small trip—obviously I'm fine, and I won't go again."

"No, you most certainly won't. I'm having that one-woman carriage dismantled as we speak, and express orders have been delivered to every servant that you aren't to leave this house again without your destination being cleared by me."

"Fine."

He seemed to be bracing himself for a furious Scarlett, and the shortness of the reply caught him off guard. In truth, the very idea of it was galling, but it was better to protest later and escape to the sanctuary of her room now.

"I am going up to my room for a rest now, Rhett, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Wait a minute. We aren't done here."

He grabbed her firmly by the arm.

"I've agreed to your ridiculous blockade of my carriages, I don't see—"

"Did you see Ashley Wilkes while you were there?"

Of course. Of _course _that was what he wanted to know.

"Yes, I did," she answered, a defiant tone in her voice.

His eyes flashed, dangerously, and he took another step towards her. They were barely a foot away from each other, now.

"And what, pray tell, did you discuss?" was his silky question.

Rhett's transparent jealousy was maddening. She knew, from the night of the party, that all those years of denying he was jealous of Ashley were lies. The fact that he had been jealous of a man who had not really loved her, had not even deserved the distinction of being an object of jealousy, was enough to make her shout the first words that came to her mind—

"If you must know," she yelled, yanking her arm from his grip, "I told him I didn't care a whit for him and I kicked him in the same place I kicked _you_!"

—Which she promptly did.

There was a moment of profound silence. Scarlett clapped her hands over her mouth. Rhett stared at her. Scarlett stared back.

"Could you repeat that, please?" he asked, tonelessly.

"I said…" she whispered, breathlessly, "I said…I said I didn't love him and I kicked him very, very hard in the—in the crotch of his pants."

Without another word, Rhett swept her into his arms and up the stairs. Before she even had a moment to protest, they were in her bedroom, she was laid gently on the bed, Rhett was frantically locking the door and she had no idea why he was reacting this way.

He turned towards her from the locked door, an absolutely electrifying expression on his face. This hadn't been the reaction she'd expected—she'd expected him to mock her for thinking that she loved Ashley, she expected needling about the conversation they'd had—she expected a few arrogant Rhett Butler 'I told you sos'.

Suddenly he was on top of her, his eyes glazed with passion and adoration and she found her pulse quickening.

"Say it again, Scarlett—tell me what you said to him."

His voice was husky and his breath was hot against her face and neck.

"I told him he was a coward and he lied to me…" Rhett groaned at the words, as if he was actually aroused by them. "And then I…kicked him."

"Scarlett…" he muttered into her ear, "That is, without a doubt, the single most attractive thing you've ever said to me. Dear God, I wish I could've been hidden on a couch in that room and overheard it."

Before she could squawk that there _was_ no couch in her office his mouth was on hers, stopping any words in their tracks. His hands her all over her body, gently running over her swelling curves while his lips were forcefully pressed to hers, hungrily probing her mouth. Next he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her nose—he trailed kisses down her slender neck.

Scarlett had stopped thinking about why Rhett was doing what he was doing about a half-second after he started doing it.

"God, Scarlett…" he muttered, between kisses, "This is why I love you so damned much."

The words registered.

They hit.

"_What?_"

Rhett Butler's kisses could make her forget a lot of things, but this was not one of them. She pushed him off of her, furiously.

"This is why you love me? _This?_ Kicking Ashley in the nether regions can make you love me?"

They were both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in almost perfect unison.

"No. The fact that you told him you didn't care, than gave him his richly deserved punishment for leading you on for the last however many years of your life—that's why I love you. Kicking a man in the most guarded part of his vanity is a most unladylike response to a snub, and it is your more unladylike qualities that made me first want to have you, to keep you…it's what made me love you."

Her willingness to kick a man in his privates when wronged as a reason for love was strange enough—that Rhett seemed to be filling up with desire at the very thought of it was altogether bizarre.

"When you kicked me on the stairs, Scarlett—the fact that I had made you that angry gave me hope, in a strange way. That your response was that strong gave me hope that I may have entered into the realm of things you truly care about—I've only ever seen you get so infuriated about two things—Ashley Wilkes and Tara." He kissed her neck again, teeth grazing the skin in a wholly possessive fashion. "If Ashley is out of the way, you understand that I have to make the move to replace him quickly."

"You—" Her breath nearly caught in her throat at his ministrations, "You already have."

It was another truth she realized today. Rhett had surpassed Ashley in significance—he was funny and interesting and, in spite of the way she treated him, he loved her. Rhett could make her laugh, cry, and feel like this—Rhett, she thought irrationally, could do anything.

"I'm competing with Tara, then—I truly have my work cut out for me."

The burden of Ashley off her shoulders, Scarlett could even believe that Rhett might be successful in his endeavor to surpass Tara in her heart—such a monumental task was made for him.

Melanie Wilkes was very concerned that night when Ashley came home from work, limping oddly. Later, when Scarlett came over for tea and to give her the good news about the Butler family's latest addition (a baby—how exciting!), she assured her friend that accidents in the lumber business were a regular occurrence, and no cause for alarm whatsoever—Ashley would recover.

Eventually.


End file.
